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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673100">Tethered</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/collieflower/pseuds/collieflower'>collieflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Hoodie Stealing, Hinata and Kenma Are The Same Age, Kozume Kenma &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Laundry, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, References to Depression, Romance In A Laundromat, Touch-Based Soulmates, Touch-Starved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:53:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/collieflower/pseuds/collieflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto held Kenma's face in his hands, thumbs sweeping tenderly across his cheekbones. He didn't even look at the development of color, deep, deep red, because he was too busy looking into Kenma's eyes with tenderness that made Kenma want to cry.</p><p>His soulmate was out there somewhere, and Kenma was a horrible person, because with every kiss he shared with Bokuto was met with a prayer.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Don't leave, hope they never meet you, stay here, stay with me.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comfort Fics ミ✭, One shots</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tethered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i was POSSESSED or something because i wrote this in one whole day . started at 4pm and went BERSERK for the next twelve hours</p><p>the song i listened to on loop for <i>hours</i> writing this was You by Roman Banks, and you should listen to it bc W o w .</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Look, if Kenma had an opinion one way or the other, he'd just say that people trying to move the term from soulmates to <em> soultwined </em>were really weird.</p><p>Sure, different people had different definitions and think pieces of soulmates, but everyone fairly agreed on the basic concept in the end.</p><p>People who were bound to find each other, would.</p><p>The term waffled sometimes. Every once in a while some new wave of renaming soulmates came along. The one that was up and coming, getting a lot of attention of people his age, was <em> soultwined.  </em></p><p>Souls. In tangled separate messes, because they hadn't even included the part of the word that meant <em> together. </em>Dumb name, same old concept.</p><p>Soulmate wasn't his favorite, either. It made him think of people so old they were new age dinosaurs, and furries. But with soul, right? So they were probably all getting married, too.</p><p>There were words he liked. Posts suggesting the switch and prodding people to agree popped up on his feed sometimes. "Tethered" was another one they pushed. Sounded like they were kocked unconscious and tied together against their will.</p><p>Which—</p><p>Well, on second thought, it was accurate. Not pleasant to hear, but accurate.</p><p>Intended was nice. Maybe it sounded like arranged marriages, but... The thought was nice?</p><p>Jesus, so Kenma didn't like a lot of the terms.</p><p>The idea behind them — <em> soulmates, </em>to which he normally referred to them — were nice. Someone put into this world for you. And you to them. And any other people you're bound to. Sometimes the bonds get messy, but the people in the mess don't really look unhappy to him, so it's still nice, right?</p><p>Kenma wasn't sure if he wanted more than one soulmate, though. Just one sounded good for him. Too many people can get complicated, and also <em> loud. </em>Just like it was right now. Too loud, with too many people, and complicated verbal instructions that he hadn't even had the chance to let sink in before he was shoved in this room. The room with the hoard of people, who, really, any of them could be bonded to Kenma.</p><p>Any one of them.</p><p>All of them.</p><p>The thought of brushing through the crowd, pinging from one soulmate to the next like a godless, directionless ping pong ball made the pit in his stomach pitch and roll.</p><p>The air was heady, and he was pretty sure that he was going to lose the ability to breathe soon.</p><p>Too young, bondless, collapsing in on himself in this stuffed-to-capacity room with no further thought to his parents, or his new Twitch channel, or his best friend Kuroo. There he'd die. If nothing else, he was pretty sure his Twitch traffic would pick up for a little while. Fuck, he really should have uploaded the VOD's this week when he was thinking about it. Now there's only the series on Yoshi’s Wooly World and eighty-four minutes of raw Final Fantasy VII gameplay. Maybe he was being punished for the Final Fantasy gameplay.</p><p>"Hey, are you okay?"</p><p>Something tapped at his shoulder, and Kenma swung out, already ready to bat the offending hand away.</p><p>What he found was an ID pinned the the chest of a boy with athletic wear on. The ID told of big, golden eyes and a riot of white and gray hair. That grin was bigger than Kuroo's. <em> He </em>was bigger than Kuroo. Not length-wise, but he was definitely wider, dense with muscle mass Kuroo had never quite achieved.</p><p>"Uhm," was the intelligent reply that Kenma ended up choking out.</p><p>"You just looked like you were a little overwhelmed over here!" He waved his arm around, like that would do anything to help chill Kenma out. "These things can get in your head, but they're pretty chill if you've got something to do while they're going on." He dug a notepad out of his back pocket and offered it to Kenma. It was a flipbook of Battleship games.</p><p>When Kenma traced the arm up with narrowed eyes, he was met with a blindingly pretty smile. "I can keep you company if you want."</p><p>Kenma took the book from him, careful not to brush his fingers. Even with the thin gloves Kenma wore, the other man's hand were bare, and Kenma's anxiety hadn't abated so far just yet.</p><p>They ended up on the very last row of seats, with Bokuto, as he introduced himself, sitting at the end. They sat facing each other, unwilling to let the other cheat as they marked out their ships.</p><p>Kenma discovered that the man was named Bokuto Koutarou, and he was a year ahead of Kenma. He was was <em> supposed </em>to be here helping freshmen come into the lecture hall smoothly, and help with any informational needs they had.</p><p>"Volunteer work," he said, chalking it up super easy. His mouth was twisted off to the side as he penciled something onto his paper.</p><p>"Shouldn't you be helping the other freshmen, then?"</p><p>Bokuto shrugged, seeming very unbothered. He tucked his knee into his seat, and Kenma shifted away to match,maintaining the distance between them. "We had lots of help this year. And I am helping! I’m your emotional support volunteer right now.” He grinned at Kenma, finally sticking his pencil behind his ear. "Now give me your best shot!"</p><p>They played through the announcements. Kenma only half listened to most of it, focused on Bokuto and how funny it was to see him try and contain himself into being quiet.</p><p>"If you need any help after this, I'm your guy," Bokuto whispered loudly to him as everything was coming to a close. It was too soon, really. Everyone's collective voices were going to pick up again right after it was all over. Kenma's head hurt at just the thought.</p><p>"Because you're supposed to be giving out information?" Kenma deadpanned.</p><p>"Because I've been through this before!" Bokuto corrected. "And I have pointers. Wouldn't want you to be lost without 'em." He winked. It was overdramatic and way overplayed, but it didn't seem to matter to Kenma. His stomach flipped helplessly, preening under the attention.</p><p>He cleared his throat. "Sure," he nodded, untucking his hair from behind his ear so it curtained off some of his vision.</p><p>Bokuto was so much easier to look at when some of that robust excitement was blocked off.</p><p>"I-6."</p><p>He sucked in sharp through his teeth. "You got me. You win." He sunk into his seat like a little kid.</p><p>Kenma laughed, and tucked himself in much the same way. The rest of the talk was spent listening, and taking account of the man at his side, too. When the lights came back up, Kenma sat back up.</p><p>He scribbled his name and phone number on the pad before shoving it in Bokuto's hands. People were beginning to stand up and gather their things as Kenma shuffled out of the row. He had to get out of here before people started swarming again.</p><p>His hands were already stained orange from where Bokuto's knuckles brushed against his palm.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto didn't end up calling him.</p><p>That was fair.</p><p>Kenma didn't exactly expect him to, after all, Kenma did little more than yank him away from his work, beat him at Battleships and then leave without a goodbye.</p><p>Did Kenma even tell him his name?</p><p>Kenma buried his face in his hands, groaning miserably. College was officially a bust. He was going to head home as soon as possible. If there was <em> this </em>much fucking embarrassment in the second day he had even been on campus, it was obviously a sign.</p><p>He'd be fine. If his mom was disappointed in him, Kenma would just go and live with Kuroo. Kenma didn't take up much space, and they were already used to each other.</p><p>That was probably a bust, though. Kuroo was the type that thought you should stick around through your problems and work through them. He didn't let Kenma squirm his way out of much. Whether it was about eating healthier, getting outside somewhat often, or forcing him to play volleyball in middle school, Kuroo superimposed a lot of his parental tendencies on Kenma. He was fucking good at it, too.</p><p>Falling back to his stiff mattress, Kenma really wished he had looked into online school more.</p><p>He looked at his fingers, turning them over in the low light of his lamp. The touch was almost completely faded, now. It had been three days, and the orange still clung to his skin like a particularly troublesome marker.</p><p>His roommate was nosy. He'd already poked and prodded Kenma about the soulmate subject, eyeing the evidence of Bokuto's touch on his skin like he'd found out some grand secret.</p><p>It wasn't a huge secret that Kenma was antsy about people touching him. He'd avoided handshakes the first day, and carefully avoided any touch in a way that almost seemed to offend his roommate.</p><p>It wasn't all his fault. There was just something <em> embarrassing </em>when your skin stained under the first friendly touch.</p><p>Maybe Bokuto had seen it, and maybe that's why he didn't call. It was weird, being friends with someone so touch starved. Every time you touched them, their body would respond as if you were soulmates, color bleeding under their skin. The most obvious cry for help beyond just yelling it out for everyone within earshot.</p><p>Kenma probably wouldn't have called, either. He wouldn't even have given his number out if he hadn't been thinking about how nice Bokuto was. Or how good it would be to make a friend on the first day.</p><p>He cursed whatever small part of Kuroo stuck around in his brain, encouraging him to do brave things like get out of his comfort zone. Nasty little Kuroo.</p><p>Kenma rolled over and groaned into his blanket before blindly patting around for his handheld.</p><p>Video game therapy. Frighteningly effective, Kenma found.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>His first day of classes was fine. Between Kuroo's advice, and everything he'd found on the student forum, it seemed pretty normal.</p><p>One of his professors didn't allow laptops, or other devices to take notes on, which was a setback. He spent most of the hour staring off into space, thinking about fuck only knew what.</p><p>Walking out of the lecture hall was like walking back into reality from a particularly distressing disociation episode. God only knew how he was going to pass that class. Shit, who needed general math, anyway?</p><p>He set his bag on the ground for a moment while he tugged his jacket off and tied it around his waist. The sun was warm, soaking into his shoulders like a hug. He sighed, allowing himself a moment to drift in the moment before he left to find something for lunch.</p><p>Just another minute, and he'd be fine. He probably hadn't been getting out into the sun as much as he needed to recently. <em> Definitely </em>not enough for Kuroo's standards. But Kuroo's standards were impossible, so Kenma didn't even try to meet them.</p><p>"Hey, look who it is!"</p><p>Kenma's eyes fluttered open just in time to see Bokuto practically skid to a stop in front of him.</p><p>The boy grinned brighter than the damn sun. He panted, trying to recatch his breath. "I thought that was you!" he gasped. "I was back there." He gestured in a wide sweep that could have meant anywhere from the nearest tree, to the intersection on the other side of campus. He looked really excited for someone who'd basically spoonfed Kenma his first rejection since leaving the gentle place of his birth. It was a subtle rejection, sure, but it still stung. "And I saw you! Thought I'd come and say hi, see how you're settling in!" His hands were thrown up on his hips, chin tilted up like a concerned upperclassman.</p><p>Kenma had to fight down a smile. "I just got out of a lecture," he offered. "I'm headed to get something to lunch." He picked up his bag and pulled it over his shoulders. "I'm settled fine, thanks."</p><p>"That's good!" Bokuto chirped, following him as he started out. Alright, so this was a walking conversation, now. "My first couple weeks were super tough on me," he confided. He pointed his index finger at nothing, really. Probably mostly to help make his point. Bokuto seemed to only know one volume, and liked to give it that extra power up with how grand his hand gestures were. "I was super missing my friends and family, you know? Gosh, I was really depressed."</p><p>"This is giving me a lot of hope," Kenma deadpanned.</p><p>"I hope so!" Bokuto grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "It'll be better soon! Just give it a while and don't give up too quickly. Determination really helps." Kenma hummed. Kuroo would like him.</p><p>The walk to the caf was nice, really. Bokuto pointed out things as they went, or gave little comments and things Kenma should look out for while living on campus.</p><p>"If I asked you how to sneak alcohol into my room, would you tell me?" Kenma asked, narrowing his eyes at the older man.</p><p>Bokuto laughed, "I've never tried to. I don't usually drink much. I'm here to play, so I can't get in trouble like that. We could figure it out together, though." There was a glint in Bokuto's eyes that Kenma decided he liked very much.</p><p>They ended up in a booth together, sharing a meal.</p><p>Bokuto froze, chopsticks half-raised to his already-full mouth. "Wait, I forgot to ask, what's your name?" Kenma stared at him, and Bokuto was quick to rush on. "I was going to ask when we met the other day, but I completely forgot. Which was another reason I was hoping we would bump into each other. I felt kinda bad that I told you to count on me, and then left you high and dry like that.”</p><p>"I—." Kenma felt his skin prickle with a flush from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. "The Battleship—," he muttered. He pressed himself to the back of the booth, wishing he would disappear into the slightly sticky vinyl.</p><p>Bokuto frowned at him. "The what?"</p><p>"I put my name down there," he said, every word becoming harder and harder to pluck out of his brain.</p><p>Bokuto blinked owlishly at him, his white eyelashes fluttering prettily as he did.</p><p>Oh fuck, oh <em> god.  </em></p><p>"Kozume Kenma," Kenma answered, forcing the words out before Bokuto did something like <em> check.  </em></p><p>Too late. It was too late, because Bokuto was already reaching for the backpack tucked under the table. He spent a while under there, and Kenma spent that time debating the consequences of grabbing his things and booking it out of the caf.</p><p>This was it. He really had to go this time. Between this, and his Bokuto-linked embarrassment from before? This was <em> worse.  </em></p><p>He wondered how much of his lunch he could force down before running. A few bites, at least.</p><p>"Hey, no kidding, there you are!" He popped back up with the rumpled Battleship pad. "And—Oh! A number, too. Wow, that would have been helpful." He grinned at Kenma. "Thanks! Kenma, huh? It suits you."</p><p>Kenma took that bite, now. "Thanks," he muttered.</p><p>"No problem." He caught sight of something over Kenma's head and made a dramatic face. "I gotta head out first." He scooped up his garbage and stood up to pull his backpack over his shoulders. "I'll see you around, okay, Kenma? Oh, or I'll text you?"</p><p>Kenma nodded, slinking just a tiny bit farther down his seat. "Yeah, sure."</p><p>"Great!"</p><p>Between one blink and the next, Bokuto was waving, and then halfway out the door.</p><p>He kinda wanted to bang his head against the table, but settled for pulling out his phone instead.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The biggest surprise of Kenma's new <em> college experience, </em>was how quick he and Bokuto became friends. From that first lunch, it was almost too easy to continue meeting with him.</p><p>Bokuto wasn't always free for lunches. Sometimes he was running errands for named, yet faceless people, and other times he was at practice.</p><p>Practice, because Bokuto was at their college on a volleyball scholarship.</p><p>Fucking figures, Kenma would get attached to another volleyball finatic without even knowing it. Again.</p><p>Shit, maybe Kenma had a type when it came to friendships. Tall and beefy, with a penchant of annoying the fuck out of him in between good-natured criticisms and volleyball practices.</p><p>At least Bokuto hadn't tried to finagle him into joining the volleyball team. That would have put him too close to Kuroo for comfort.</p><p>Bokuto had a way of making even the littlest things exciting. They went grocery shopping together, something Kenma would normally rather die than carry out. But Bokuto had made it fun. Between his observations, and jokes obviously trying to gear themselves towards Kenma...</p><p>Well.</p><p>Kenma wasn't even playing anymore, he was gonna do something stupid and kiss him on his forehead if he kept acting like that.</p><p>Bokuto wasn't much of a study buddy, they found out pretty quickly. That was fine. After all, that's what video calls with Kuroo were for.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>One of Kenma's favorite parts of Bokuto was that he knew how to keep his distance. It wasn't a trait many people their age possessed. Granted, not many people were as touch-shy as Kenma was, but he still thought it was weird to go around letting people who you barely knew rub all over you.</p><p>It all came back to that want for a soulmate connection, he guessed. A person never really knew when they would meet their soulmate unless they got out there.</p><p>Getting "out there" was by far the most embarrassing thing Kenma could ever think of. But if that worked for them.</p><p>Good for them, just leave him out of it.</p><p>Which is what Bokuto did. When they walked, Bokuto kept a fair amount of space between them, never so much as brushing up against one another.</p><p>Bokuto seemed the tactile type. He was big, and overly loud, and excitable. Just the type to run and tackle somebody, or wrap his arms around their shoulders. He probably saw the gloves Kenma wore out of habit and took his cue off them. The fact he reeled himself in like he did when he was with Kenma made Kenma's chest feel warm.</p><p>The inches of constant space between them were great, yeah. It kept Kenma's condition under wraps. Any embarrassing <em> you might be my soulmate </em>situations were avoided, too.</p><p>Bokuto was one of the first friends he had ever made on his own, free of his parent's influence, or Kuroo pushing him to be more social. He didn't want to make it weird.</p><p>If there was one thing Kenma was extremely good at, it was making things weird. Between lacking the warmth of the most common need after <em> food and water, </em>and his general anxiety and tendency to disappear for days on end with a need to recharge his tiny social battery, Kenma's forte was making things insufferably weird.</p><p>Bokuto seemed immune to the weirdness. He took Kenma's week-long refusals to hang out with grace. He didn't make Kenma make eye contact when he was more content to keep his eyes on his phone, or just generally away from human eyes because they made him nervous. He talked to Kenma, and didn't mind his snarky little one-liners. In fact, Kenma almost thought he liked them.</p><p>Bokuto was worming his way into Kenma's life with alarming efficiency.</p><p>What was even more alarming was how Kenma welcomed him in.</p><p>What he didn't welcome was how much of a fucking social butterfly his friend was.</p><p>Someone's house party is where Kenma saw his Friday night. He called off a stream because Bokuto wanted to do something fun. Kenma didn't know what he was expecting, but he wanted to go back in time and strangle himself for letting Bokuto talk him into such a thing.</p><p>Just because the guy was a walking social battery did not mean that Kenma went to house parties. He barely went to <em> birthday parties.  </em></p><p>It was hot in here.</p><p>The living room was packed with people. There was dancing, and drinking, and probably karaoke. A screeching howl from somewhere in the house confirmed it. Definitely karaoke.</p><p>Kenma was tucked along one corner, next to an armchair, bundled in a hoodie much too large for him.</p><p>See, when Bokuto said party, Kenma expected fifteen people. Most of them were supposed to be Bokuto's teammates, and there was supposed to be takeout, and maybe one of those filthy card games that Kenma absolutely slaughtered on a regular basis. He took the chance and wore shortsleeves, just some old t-shirt sitting around his dorm.</p><p>He asked Bokuto for his jacket as soon as they walked in and was slapped in the face by how wrong his expectations were.</p><p>Bokuto didn't question him before dragging the baby blue hoodie over his head and handing it over. It left him in one of those skin-tight long sleeved shirts that made his arms look that much <em> bigger. </em>Kenma almost shoved the hoodie back in his arms and told him to put it back on to preserve his modesty.</p><p>He didn't, obviously, because he was to busy pulling the hoodie over his head and hiding in the collar. Bokuto plucked the hood up on his head and said some joke Kenma didn't catch before he slipped away with a loud "Be right back!"</p><p>Kenma didn't know where he'd gone, but he hadn't been back. Kenma had since migrated to the corner, and become glued to his phone. The hoodie was a comforting presence around him, even if it made him sweat. It was worn so soft, obviously a favorite of Bokuto's. And goddammit, it smelled amazing, too.</p><p>He put his earbuds in, thumbing through YouTube before he found something to listen to. He tried not to think about how he could be playing his game at home, waist-deep in the latest dungeon by now.</p><p>His roommate was so weird, but at least he kept a schedule that allowed Kenma to film on a regular basis. He was in the room consistently until Thursday, and then like clockwork, he and his clothes were gone until Monday.</p><p>That was just fine with Kenma and his Twitch subscribers. Kenma was really glad he didn't have to switch his schedule around, it was one of the things that stressed him out about moving the most.</p><p>Obviously he hadn't taken Bokuto Koutarou into account. That sneak attack of a person that caught Kenma totally unaware.</p><p>That would usually be Game Over, but on normal days, it was like he'd been offered a pack of extra lives.</p><p>Not right now, though. He was in critical condition, poison leeching his HP like it was a college student guzzling down drinks. Just like the woman he was passively watching across the room.</p><p>He slipped out of the room, looking for a quieter place to wait while Bokuto did whatever he snuck away for.</p><p>The kitchen is where he ended up, not that it was any quieter. The density of people was less here, but they were far more wasted, much more loud. A little group next to the sink were bickering over hypotheticals, with wide hand gestures and tall voices. Kenma locked his phone, and the YouTube video automatically paused in his pocket. He left his earbuds in to discourage anyone coming to him as he hovered around the counter stacked high with drinks.</p><p>It was mostly out of curiosity. Kenma didn't spend a lot of time at the bottom of a bottle. He didn't know how to mix drinks, or how strong the different liquors were. In high school, he was friends with straight-laced athletes, he never really had the want or the opportunity to get drunk off his head. He reached out to pick a bottle up, and picked at the label. Candy flavored alcohol.</p><p>His nose scrunched up as he read the company's tagline.</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the girls from the bickering group glancing at him, looking him up and down. He tensed, staring very hard at the bottle in hopes she wouldn't approach him.</p><p>No such luck.</p><p>She slid up the counter with a saccharine smile, tapping her nails against the counter. "Hey, you want some? Cups are on the table," she told him. Kenma twisted the bottle, wondering how long his <em> earbuds in, loud music playing, kindly fuck Off, </em>play would hold up.</p><p>Again. Not fucking long. She reached up and plucked the earbud right out of his ear to eliminate any such distractions. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, the shell of his ear.</p><p>Kenma almost dropped the bottle with how hard he flinched back.</p><p>"I didn't mean to startle you!" She laughed, holding her hands between them, still hanging onto Kenma's earbud. Her eyes kept flicking to Kenma's ear and back to his eyes. She looked relieved that her own hand remained unmarred. "Just wanted to know if you wanted a drink." She dropped the earbud, letting it dangle by the cord. "I'm a pretty good mixer, so just tell me what kind of things you like."</p><p>Her friends were staring, now. She kept looking between him and the spot she touched. Kenma could still feel phantom fingers against his skin, and it made his stomach feel like he was pitched into a freefall.</p><p>"I don't drink," he croaked, shoving the bottle into her hands. Bad fucking idea. Her fingers drifted across his wrist, and he jumped back like he was burned.</p><p>Running from the kitchen was pretty fucking counter productive when Kenma just ended up running face-first into someone's chest.</p><p>"Hey, hey, hey! Kenma, hold on!" His arms were gripped, and before he knew it, he was being steered away.</p><p>The first breath of clear night air is always the best. He gasped in air like he was suffocating. The person with him didn't pull away, even when there was space to do so.</p><p>Kenma vaguely registered being sat down, cradled against the person's body. They were warm. It was as welcome as the rumble reverberating from their ribcage to Kenma's. He didn't understand what they were saying, yet, but the tone was good.</p><p>God, almost as good as the arms around him. The hug was tight, encompassing him on all sides. The pressure was so welcoming, unwinding a tension that had been there so long that Kenma was beginning to forget a time when he had been free of it.</p><p>The mortification didn't settle back into his bones until he recognized the voice. He recognized the smell clinging to Bokuto's shirt and realized it wasn't just coming from his borrowed hoodie. His nose was buried in Bokuto's neck, skin against skin, while Bokuto held him. While he told Kenma that it was okay, and that he was safe.</p><p>"Take all the time you need," Bokuto murmured. His head was tipped back, probably looking to the night sky.</p><p>Kenma sniffled, pulling back to sit up on his own. God, his <em> face. </em>He buried his face in his hands, shuddering against a sigh.</p><p>"I didn't mean to leave you alone like that," Bokuto told him earnestly. He scooted back and folded his legs under himself, just out of reach. "One of my teammates caught me, and I couldn't slip away."</p><p>"I just got overwhelmed," Kenma told him behind his sleeves.</p><p>"I could tell!" Bokuto nodded. "Sorry. I didn't think about that when I asked you to come."</p><p>Kenma grimaced to himself. "It's fine." It wasn't really. His body still felt off-kilter. Like his body had been accustomed to the lead in his veins, and when it was taken from him he was left to split the difference. "You can go back inside. I'm gonna go home."</p><p>Bokuto scoffed. "Like I'd leave you to go home alone. What if some sleazy criminal spotted you? At least if they see you with me, they'd probably run away, huh?" Kenma heard him slap his arm, probably posing big and proud like they weren’t sitting on a street curb. The air of confidence was assuring, at least.</p><p>"Okay." Kenma nodded, and that was that. Bokuto picked himself up and waited for Kenma to get up before they set out.</p><p>Bokuto made a little sound and took out his phone. He sent a few messages before he was back with Kenma. "I had tons of laundry to do anyway!" he said, sounding like a salesman trying to convince a customer that it was okay that they didn't want that product, as long as they bought this one instead.</p><p>Kenma laughed quietly, but Bokuto latched on instantly.</p><p>"Kenma!" he said, shocked that Kenma would take such a monumental task so lightly. "There's a lot to do with laundry! There's folding, and sorting. Sometimes I even <em> iron </em>things!"</p><p>"Oh, you iron things," Kenma repeated. It really wasn't his place to mock anybody for ironing when Kenma did little more than fold his cold laundry every week. "You should open a laundromat."</p><p>Bokuto floundered, walking backwards to face Kenma. His expression was all righteous shock, and it only made Kenma laugh harder. "My laundromat would do very well, <em> I'll have you know!" </em>he huffed. He kicked a pebble as he turned back around. "Koutarou's Clothes Cleaners!" He wiped his hand across the sky as if to reveal his storefront.</p><p>"You should drop volleyball. This is it."</p><p>Bokuto laughed. He drifted closer, as if to knock his shoulder against Kenma's before he thought better of it. "Think so?" Kenma hummed, something Bokuto mimicked a moment later. "Yeah, this idea fucks."</p><p>Kenma's laugh was carried on a breath of air.</p><p>Bokuto's hands drifted between them, swinging this way and that before he laced them together behind his head. "I really do need to do my laundry though," he mused. "Akaashi would kill me."</p><p>Akaashi was Bokuto's best friend. He was the same age as Kenma, and studying at a different college. Bokuto had nothing but good things to say about him, and plenty of them.</p><p>Bokuto would tell Kenma stories about Akaashi, Kenma would tell Bokuto things about Kuroo. There were plenty of things their best friends would probably agree on, they found.</p><p>Their collective ever-growing stack of laundry being one of them.</p><p>"Let's meet at the laundromat," Kenma said, when they had gotten pretty close to his dorm. Bokuto blinked at him, his head doing this cute little tilt. The moonlight played off of the light parts of his hair, and his eyelashes, making him look like something out of one of those dating simulation games. Unfairly pretty. The kind that ended up on TV advertisements, and posters.</p><p>Bokuto was so fucking pretty, and Kenma didn't want to say good night yet.</p><p>All at once, one of those grins that knocked Kenma off his feet blossomed on Bokuto's face. "Kenma," he murmured, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy. "Are you suggesting a late night adventure?"</p><p>Kenma rolled his eyes. "Is washing our clothes after dark an adventure?" he deadpanned.</p><p>"Yes!"</p><p>"Oh, what a life you lead, Koutarou."</p><p>"Anything is an adventure if you make it one, Kenma."</p><p>"If you say so."</p><p>"I do! It's one of my mottos!"</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Wrestling Kenma's laundry across campus was a whole fuck of a lot easier with Bokuto around. When he met him on the sidewalk outside the dorm, he simply stacked Kenma's basket on top of his own, and off they went.</p><p>Kenma decided pretty quickly that he might have liked these late night adventures.</p><p>Soon it was just him and Bokuto and the hum and slosh of a washing machine filling up for its first wash cycle.</p><p>Kenma stretched his legs out in front of him, his handheld console in his hands.</p><p>So he'd gotten to the dungeon in the end. He just didn't expect the current setting. He certainly didn't expect Bokuto sitting near him, asking questions about his game.</p><p>He answered every one, and even let Bokuto give it a go. The console was carefully handed over, and Kenma slid back into his seat. He pulled his phone from his pocket, gleefully listening to Bokuto's running commentary as he opened the front facing camera.</p><p>His face would be stained for a few days, of course. An inky blue was smeared across his right cheek. A touch of it was on his wrist, but that part didn't concern him too much.</p><p>Mostly because it didn't hold a flame to the rest of his face. His nose and chin were almost the same color inky blue, but the hue was richer, more vibrant. Some of his cheek was painted with the same color, and there was a splotch on his forehead, too. Kenma frowned at himself, taking it all in.</p><p>"You look like a blueberry," Bokuto told him jovially. "Or like you tripped face-first into a blueberry. Whichever you want." Bokuto shot a grin to him, and Kenma glared at him.</p><p>Bokuto's voice was free of the judgement Kenma had been expecting. Maybe he felt a little bad expecting that kind of behavior from his friend. Just a little. Especially when Bokuto didn't even poke fun at him for it.</p><p>Kenma didn't have anything to say, so he stuck his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie.</p><p>After a few minutes, the game over sound hummed between them. Bokuto finally turned to him. "I was gonna ask if you found your soulmate in there, but your reaction was a lot less <em> wow, a soulmate! </em> And a lot more <em> I can't breathe. </em>Which could be a soulmate reaction, I guess. Oh gosh, did you meet your soulmate?"</p><p>Kenma took the console from him and started up a new round. "I touched you too, didn't I? I'm just... like this." He concentrated on the click of the control-stick under his thumb, or the click back of the bumpers. "A blueberry."</p><p>Bokuto slid out of his seat and knelt by the row of chairs. "You don't have to feel bad about that," he said, gentle and kind. It made Kenma's chest hurt. He wanted to go back to an hour ago, when he was slumped in Bokuto's arms, worrying about little more than remember how to breathe.</p><p>Kenma shut off his game and set it in Bokuto's vacant seat. He faced Bokuto head on, even if his eyes were dropped to his chin, drifting down his collar where—</p><p>Hang on.</p><p>Bracing his hands on either side of him, Kenma pushed himself to sit up straight. He blinked down at Bokuto, who stared into his eyes with a startling intensity.</p><p>And then he smiled. Not so carefree as normal, but definitely genuine. He tipped his head to the side to give Kenma a better look at the pink-blobbed stamp of Kenma's face in the crook of his neck.</p><p>Before Kenma even really realized what he was doing, he pressed two fingers into Bokuto's throat, watching a deep orange bleed into his skin.</p><p>"I don't get around all that much either," he whispered it out of the side of his mouth, cupping his hand around his mouth so no one in the empty laundromat could hear him.</p><p>Kenma frowned at him, drawing a line from his ear to his collar just to watch the color develop. Orange overlapped pink, and Kenma had never seen that before. He could barely rip his eyes away from Bokuto's throat so he could look him in the eyes. "You have plenty of friends." It sounded like an accusation, even to Kenma's ears. He barely fought away the wince that threatened to crumple his face.</p><p>Bokuto blinked up at him, his mouth turning down at the corners. "Yeah, sure," he shrugged a shoulder, conceding. "I've got you too. And—<em> And, </em>you've got me."</p><p>Kenma hated how he made sense. A warm hand settled on his knee, and Kenma stretched his leg out to bracket Bokuto's body. Maybe it was the dim lights, or the rhythmic slosh of the washing machine in the background, or the quiet, important atmosphere between them, but Kenma wanted to explain. To confess his secrets to Bokuto because he knew the man would keep them safe. "I've been like this since Kuroo moved away. I tell him I'm fine. He doesn't know."</p><p>Bokuto shuffled forward, dropping from his crouch to rest fully on his knees before Kenma. His hands settled low on the outsides of his thighs. His hands were so big and warm, and Kenma wanted them <em> everywhere.  </em></p><p>He would settle for this, though.</p><p>He wouldn't ask for anything else, as long as Bokuto's thumb kept sweeping across his thigh like that. Kenma was sure that he was six seconds from vibrating to dust in Bokuto's hands. Just one long buzz, and then no more. At least if he crumpled to the floor in a heap of dust he wouldn't ruin their friendship with something stupid like a kiss.</p><p>"I have a big family," Bokuto told him. "I never really had to learn to be open like that, because they were always there for me, yanno? But then my sisters moved out, and I got a lot busier with volleyball and trying to graduate." His shoulders jerked with a shrug, jostling his hands a bit. "It seemed like a secondary problem. And then, it's kind of hard to pull out of it when you're in, right? Kinda scary, when you get a good hug and you just kinda want to never leave. So you don't have to be embarrassed, Kozu. At least not with me."</p><p>Kenma nodded. It was like Bokuto had read his mind. Maybe they were just on the same wavelength, dealing with the same problems alone for far too long.</p><p>Kenma's tongue felt big and dry in his mouth, and he had to swallow before he spoke. "Then... It happens when you aren't touched enough, right?" Bokuto nodded. "Then let's do that."</p><p>Bokuto's mouth dropped open. "Do what?"</p><p>"Touch... each other." Kenma could feel the flush under his skin, and he wanted to screw his eyes shut. Bokuto was red too, making the pink stand out against his throat even more. <em> "Not like that." </em>Kenma took his leg back and sat ramrod straight in his chair. He pressed his knees tight together, looking away as he muttering darkly. "It's scary, when you touch somebody and don't wanna let go," he ground out. "It's exposure therapy. You do something enough, and you're not scared of it anymore. If we..." He gulped down all that nervouness long enough to hold Bokuto's hand. He threaded their hands together, resolutely not watching the colors. "If we do this enough, then the color won't be so bad."</p><p>Bokuto's hand squeezed around Kenma's fingers, and he felt that knot in his chest loosen that tiny bit more. "You're so smart <em> Kenmaaaa!" </em> he cried out. The hand still on Kenma's thigh tightened, and <em> fuckfuckfuck, this was such a bad idea, Kenma you fucking </em> <b> <em>idiot. </em> </b>"Can I hug you?"</p><p>Kenma barely gave the okay before he was scooped back into those strong arms.</p><p>Good idea, Kenma. You fucking genius.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>There were developments in their relationship Kenma couldn't strictly pinpoint.</p><p>It was like, now that the floodgate between them had broken down, the water came rushing forth.</p><p>You know, if the water was physical affection and Kenma's terribly-hidden attraction to Bokuto.</p><p>The words <em> God, you're so fucking screwed, </em>came and went, varying in intensity and word placement about sixteen times a day. Like a well-worn prayer repeated until the words lost meaning and his rosary beads were rubbed to ruin. He heard it when Bokuto threw an arm over his shoulders as they walked. He heard it when Bokuto trapped Kenma's foot between his own under the restaurant table.</p><p>He heard it now, lying in Bokuto's bed, with his head propped up by a pillow and blanketed by Bokuto's heavy body.</p><p>He had a controller held over Bokuto's head, eyes trained on the TV sitting on Bokuto's dresser across the room</p><p>If Kenma died like this, he'd be happy. That was the long and short of it.</p><p>"You're pretty screwed right now."</p><p>The phrase. Kenma's phrase. His motto and prayer and manifestation, mumbled into the fabric of a hoodie Kenma stole off the back of Bokuto's desk chair. Kenma jostled back and forth, trying to dislodge him for interrupting his concentration.</p><p>"I'm fine."</p><p>Bokuto made a protesting noise. "You're dying."</p><p>Kenma didn't know how he was keeping up with Kenma's game when he was half asleep, his eyes barely cracked open.</p><p>"I have a health pack."</p><p>"You just used one."</p><p>Kenma wrapped his calf around the back of Bokuto's leg, scoffing. "I have another one."</p><p>Bokuto picked his head up from Kenma's chest and thumped his chin down instead. Kenma was happy for the padding of the thick hoodie. He had learned these past few weeks that Bokuto's chin was painfully sharp. Kenma was 100% sure that he bruised Kenma's ribs the other day, and they couldn't even tell because of the royal blue touch standing out against his skin.</p><p>It had been two and a half weeks of this. At least six <em> holy shit </em>crises a day. Their skin still stained on contact. Kenma didn't know exactly how long their experiment was supposed to take, but he wasn't going to rush it along.</p><p>Kenma was mottled from head to toe every day, and for the first time, he didn't mind the color.</p><p>Maybe it was because it came from Bokuto. Or maybe it was the fact that his hands left the same result along Bokuto's body.</p><p>Maybe it was his overactive imagination that could almost make him believe that maybe this was how it was meant to be.</p><p>Kuroo said that he played too many video games. Kenma was beginning to wonder if he was right.</p><p>He hoped not. He hated telling Kuroo he was right.</p><p>Bokuto laughed. His cheek was pressed against Kenma's chest again. "I told you."</p><p>Kenma died again. He cursed, letting his arm flop down, and the controller fall from his fingers. "Distracted," was all he offered.</p><p>Bokuto's eyes were on him in record speeds. And that was saying something. It seemed like Kenma caught Bokuto looking at him a lot these days. "Distracted, <em> huuuuh?" </em>He waggled his eyebrows, and Kenma pushed his face away with the palm of his hand.</p><p>That pink again, smearing across Bokuto's cheek like strawberry ice cream. "I'm sleepy," Kenma deadpanned, dropping his arm over his eyes.</p><p><em> "Bah!" </em>Bokuto scoffed, voice dipped deep before laughing. He scooted up the bed, and they adjusted until Kenma was curled into Bokuto's body. "Voila!" he exclaimed, thoughtfully quiet, as Kenma was a slim three inches away, head cushioned on Bokuto's bicep. "Sleep then, terrible player. Maybe somebody will bless you in your dreams." His dramatic speech was ended by smoothing Kenma's hair out of the way, and a tender kiss to Kenma's forehead.</p><p>Kenma froze, and then let out a loud groan. He rolled over, burying his face in Bokuto's arm.</p><p>Bokuto thought that was hilarious. Kenma normally would have, like, bit him, or tickled him, or something. Bokuto's fingers in his hair distracted him too much for that. Kenma was all but forced to relax into his arms. It was fine. He'd deal.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He stopped wearing his gloves.</p><p>They were probably pretty pointless, anyhow. They were really light both in color and material, and offered very little protection.</p><p>Thing is, he figured that he didn't need them. After all, what if Bokuto held his hand one day, and there was no evidence? Then their exposure therapy experiment would have been a success, and neither of them would even know it.</p><p>Just hearing the words "for science" float around his head made Kenma want to jump into a lake. Maybe if he turned blue enough <em> there, </em>all this shit would disappear.</p><p>He didn't want Bokuto to disappear. Not all the time, anyway.</p><p>Touch experiment or not, there were still days when Kenma couldn't deal with anybody, let alone such a big personality in his teeny tiny dorm room.</p><p>Sometimes Kenma just wanted everything else to disappear. The experiment, the colors. Any other motivations that led Bokuto to touch him besides doing it out of his own wants and needs.</p><p>He felt selfish. He soaked every moment with Bokuto in like he was a plant coming out of a long hibernation just to bask in the sun's warmth.</p><p>Bokuto had a soulmate out there somewhere, and Kenma was taking all his time away from them. Without guilt, he held Bokuto. He held his hands when they went on their grocery trips. He held his big dumb face in his hands when Kenma wanted to deliver a scathing retort right into his eyes.</p><p>He held Bokuto through three separate panic attacks and low moments, and God knew that Bokuto did the same.</p><p>Bokuto held Kenma's face in his hands, thumbs sweeping tenderly across his cheekbones. He didn't even look at the development of color, deep, deep red, because he was too busy looking into Kenma's eyes with tenderness that made Kemna want to cry.</p><p>His soulmate was out there somewhere, and Kenma was a horrible person, because with every kiss he shared with Bokuto was met with a prayer.</p><p>
  <em> Don't leave, hope they never meet you, stay here, stay with me.  </em>
</p><p>Staring up at Bokuto's ceiling late at night, Kenma cried. He'd never felt shame like this. Not even when he told himself that he didn't deserve to be touched. Everyone in his life knew that, and that's why he ached. He was going to die alone.</p><p>He deserved it. <em> God, </em>he deserved it. He thought he was a horrible person before, but this time he was right.</p><p>Bokuto pulled him into his arms. Ran his fingers through his hair and murmured sweet things to him. Kenma didn't tell him what he was crying over. He didn't leave, either.</p><p>Because Kenma was selfish.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"I'm just gonna be recording a lot." Kenma pressed the phone to his ear with a frown. It was snowing again. Winter break was just around the corner, bringing with it snow and ice and flurries.</p><p>Bokuto was elated. Kenma wanted nothing more than to burrow himself in blankets and sleep the whole winter through.</p><p>The sound Kuroo made on the other end of the line was long, scooping into deep octaves. He came back up with a yawn. "That's cool. You haven't been streaming all that much recently, have you?"</p><p>Kenma hummed the negative. "Some. It's mostly because of exams."</p><p>Exams had slammed into Kenma like a full-speed bullet train. Too much work, not enough down time.</p><p>Definitely not enough sleep.</p><p>Bokuto said he looked like the demon from The Ring. He didn't understand why Kenma looked like he was going through war flashbacks, but at least he did compliment Kenma's retouched dye job the following week.</p><p>"I'll be back on schedule soon."</p><p>"Good! That's good." There were little noises in the background of Kuroo's apartment. The sound of pans against a stove, and the low murmur of voices. Probably Kuroo's new boyfriend. He got one of those recently. He was already attached at the hip, speaking nothing but affectionate mush of him.</p><p>Kenma hated to think that he was probably dipping into the same range when he talked about Bokuto. As verbally mushy as Kenma ever got, anyway.</p><p>A joyful hum and a compliment on someone’s cooking had Kenma drawing away from his phone, pulling in on himself like he was trying to retreat back into his shell. They were soppy sweet, talking to each other like there was none other. Kuroo went on like nothing happened.</p><p>"Hope you carve out a few of those days to spend with your best friend since he's travelling all the way down to see you," Kuroo cooed, probably crooking his finger in the air like an idiot.</p><p>Kenma's feet shuffled. "Of course. The second bed in my room is empty. You don't have to stay in a hotel, so save your money."</p><p>"Hm? What happened to your roommate?"</p><p>Sighing, Kenma looked out the window. Everything was dusted in white. His fingers felt creaky just looking at it all. "I think he might have dropped out. I don't know, he was weird."</p><p>"Coming from you, that's saying something."</p><p>"Look in a mirror, Kuroo."</p><p>Kuroo's laugh blended out. There was a jingle of keys and an exchange of farewells from beyond. "Jesus, it's cold," he hissed.</p><p>Kenma huffed. "I'm inside."</p><p>"Well, stay there," Kuroo directed. "Or bundle up before you go out."</p><p>Kenma looked down at the oversized sweater he was bound in, and the coat on top. He was okay on that front, Kuroo, thanks. "I got it, Dad," he muttered instead.</p><p>"You think I'm bad, wait 'till you meet Sawamura," Kuroo snorted. "Which you are, by the way. Christmas is for us."</p><p>Kenma nodded to no one, rolling his eyes. Kenma's parents were in the middle of a trip in Europe and wouldn't be back until New Years. His mom had made Kenma promise that he would spend the Holidays with Kuroo. He was going to anyway. Now he just felt like a little kid following his mom's instructions.</p><p>"And I want to meet Bokuto!"</p><p>Kenma froze stock-still. After a system reboot, cold washed with tension and a knot tying itself in his stomach, Kenma scoffed. "You're not my Dad, Kuroo."</p><p>"Oh? Would your dad meeting Bokuto be significant? Kenma, don't tell me you're at <em> that </em>stage yet." His voice was thick with mirth and smug amusement that Kenma had become accustomed to in all his years of friendship with the older man.</p><p>He didn't know why it grated on him so hard today.</p><p>"Shut up," he snapped. "I don't know what he's doing for break. He might be going home."</p><p>Kuroo seemed to understand his discomfort and eased off. "Well, I hope to meet him, then. You talk a lot of good about him, Kenma. You can't blame me for wanting to see it in live-action."</p><p>"Whatever," he huffed. "Tell me when you're coming down."</p><p>"I will. Text me later, okay?"</p><p>"Yeah. See you. Don't die in the snow."</p><p>"I'll try my best!"</p><p>He shoved his phone into his pocket and burrowed himself farther into his jacket.</p><p>He took one last mournful look around the warmth of the library before setting back out into the cold.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Volleyball practices were about as loud as Kenma remembered them. This team worked at about the same ferocity, but Kenma's high school team had been frighteningly dedicated.</p><p>He sat perched on one of the bleachers. His backpack was the only counterweight that kept him from tipping forwards.</p><p>Watching the team reminded Kenma of playing on his own. He kind of missed it. He definitely missed his team. As annoying as they were sometimes, they were a well-oiled machine. Tight knit and vicious.</p><p>Bokuto's team was the same way. It was sheer luck that Bokuto had never played against Kenma in high school, he thought, but Kenma could pick out about four people here that he definitely at least <em> knew of </em>in high school.</p><p>One in particular being Shouyo Hinata, a ball of energy that burned as bright as his orange hair.</p><p>They'd known each other — fuck, they were close friends. Kenma couldn't really pinpoint the moment that they were fazed out of each other's lives, but Kenma bet it was sometime the summer before they graduated. Different things pulling them in different directions, and suddenly Kenma forgot to call.</p><p>He had no idea that he was Bokuto's teammate.</p><p>A vibrant handprint slicked down half his face, making him look kind of terrifying as he flew through the air.</p><p>Shouyo had never had problems with touch in all the years Kenma had known him. While he'd been surprised before, Kenma bet that it had something to do with the blond man on the other side of the net. There was a bunny inked into his cheek in little yellow thumb prints.</p><p>He found out sooner than later, because the set was won, and the team dispersed. He watched as Shouyo hugged the man. When his hand drifted down his arm, baby blue streaks were left in his wake.</p><p>They were totally drawn in each other. At least until Shouyo caught Kenma's eyes across the court. He jumped away from his soulmate, blowing up like a fucking balloon. Kenma barely had time to stand up before Shouyo was yelling his name and bounding across the polished floors.</p><p>There was no avoiding the armful of Shouyo. Kenma was just left to stumble back in hopes he didn't fall and crack his head against the bleachers.</p><p>"What are you doing here, Kenma? No way we go to the same school! I would have seen you before, you're so distinct. It's your <em> hair! Wow! Look how long it's gotten!"  </em></p><p>Kenma was smiling wide, letting Shouyo do his once-over, and then his twice-over. He made an exception for a thrice-over, for old times. Kenma guessed he really missed Shouyo. Like the ache from an injury you didn't fully register until you saw the blood. An absence was never fully missed if you didn't realize what was missing.</p><p>"It's a big campus," Kenma said, "And I don't go out a lot, so it's not a surprise."</p><p>"Gosh!" Shouyo yelled, grabbing Kenma by the shoulders. "You look so good!" He gasped hard, hoking his fingers in Kenma's collar. <em> "And a soulmate?!"  </em></p><p>Kenma shook him out of his jacket and shook his head. "No soulmate," that took the wind out of Shouyo's sails, but Kenma nodded to him. "What about you?"</p><p>That put it right back in. Shouyo sucked in a breath, a grin coming to him. "Yes! Yeah, that's my soulmate Atsumu!" He pointed across the court at the blond man. He was busy talking to a dark haired man, and drinking from his bottle. He hadn't spotted them yet, but Kenma figured he would officially meet him soon.</p><p>Kenma smiled at him, feeling like his heart was going to burst. "I'm happy for you."</p><p>Shouyo melted under Kenma's eyes, grinning like a lovesick fool. "Yeah, he's the best. We've got to go out sometime. Hey, wait, what were you even doing here?"</p><p>"Oh, uhm." Kenma glanced around the court to find Bokuto not too far away, shuffling on his feet. "I'm here to see Bokuto."</p><p>Shouyo blinked at him. The expression that bled into his face was thoughtful. He'd seen it a lot when Shouyo was trying to parse through a problem. "I see," he nodded, shooting Kenma a conspiratorial glance. "I'll let you see him, then. Say, hang on, is your cell phone number the same?" Kenma nodded. "Can I text you? We should see each other more!"</p><p>Kenma smiled at him. "Yeah, of course."</p><p>"Nice!" he cheered. There was no getting out of this hug, either. You never really did, with Shouyo. He squeezed Kenma's hand before he went bounding back to his boyfriend.</p><p>He met Bokuto halfway, trying to ignore the new tremble in his step.</p><p>"Hey, can we talk?"</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Bokuto pushed the crumbs from his muffin around the napkin, looking anywhere but Kenma.</p><p>"So let me get this straight," Bokuto said, "'cause I'm a little confused."</p><p>"Kuroo is coming to stay with me this week," Kenma repeated slowly. "I don't want you to touch me until he leaves. What's already there should fade within a few days, definitely by the time he gets here."</p><p>Bokuto's stare was still blank. There was something, though, that was beginning to turn.</p><p>Kenma went on, tasting the bitter words for what they were. "I don't want him to know."</p><p>The turning behind Bokuto's eyes was faster. "You don't want him to know... what?" His brows furrowed, and Kenma resisted the urge to shift in his seat, to pull out his phone, to run <em> away.  </em></p><p>He stared down at his hands instead. They were the very same as this morning, stained in the same blotches from when Bokuto held his hand as he walked Kenma to his first lecture. "I told you before we started this that Kuroo didn't know. He'll worry about me too much if he figures it out."</p><p>"Don't you think he might be happy for you?"</p><p>For maybe the first time, Kenma wasn’t able to read his face. Kenma tugged on his jacket collar. He wasn't sure if the heat under his skin was from the heater they were sitting under, or from Bokuto's unrelenting stare pinning him down.</p><p>"Don't you think it's weird?" Kenma croaked out. "It's been months. Months of this. All this... touching, and hugging."</p><p>"Kissing," Bokuto offered, an edge in his voice.</p><p>Kenma gestured with his hand, flippant and frayed. "We're still—." His hand stopped mid-air, and he turned it to face Bokuto. "It's still the same as it's always been. This isn't helping. It's not making us any better, so what's the point of going on?"</p><p>"Kenma, you're so smart." Bokuto frowned. He sounded so <em> patronizing, </em>like all it would take is sweet calming words to calm Kenma down. That was like talking a building out of falling in on itself, of asking a hurricane to maybe stop flooding places and amassing property damage. It was too fucking late, and now all there was to do was watch and pick up the pieces and file the insurance claims afterwards.</p><p><em> "Stop it," </em> Kenma snarled. "Just.” He slapped his palms on the tabletop and stood up, gritting his teeth against the bile that rose up in the back of his throat. He dug his wallet out of his bag and grabbed a few bills. At Bokuto, he bared his <em> teeth. </em>"I don't want to see you."</p><p>He threw the money on the tabletop, and ran before Bokuto could chase after him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Exams ended with a sigh of relief and a groan of exhaustion.</p><p>Kenma spent the whole day after his last exam in bed. His dorm was a mess, scattered papers and game controllers and dirty laundry gummed up his floor. He had no energy to clean for Kuroo's visit, which was coming up much faster than Kenma felt comfortable admitting.</p><p>He did pick up the food containers and the empty cups before Kuroo came. It was to lessen the blow somewhat, at least. Kuroo was going to lecture him anyway, may as well shave a minute or six about mold spores and gnats off the end.</p><p>Sooner than later, he was standing in the middle of the station, waiting for Kuroo's train to arrive.</p><p>He shied away from every stranger's brushing shoulder or knocking elbow. It reminded him so much of his and Bokuto's first meeting. A memory he temporarily shoved in the mental box labeled <em> Caution: Bokuto Contents — Do Not Open Until After Christmas. </em>It was self defense, really.</p><p>The less time he thought about Bokuto, the less he felt of that gaping loneliness in his chest.</p><p>Bokuto had done exactly as he'd asked. He hadn't come to see Kenma, hadn't talked to him when he'd seen him around campus. He'd texted Kenma twice that first day, asking what he'd done wrong, and then one asking if they could talk.</p><p>Kenma answered neither. Bokuto seemed to get the message, anyway.</p><p>There was a part of Kenma that was glad this happened. It would give Bokuto a chance to get out there. He would see Kenma for what he was, and look elsewhere. Maybe he'd even have a chance of finding his soulmate.</p><p>The larger, louder part of Kenma was what had him stuck in bed all day. It was a resounding, wordless feeling of <em> God, you fucked up monumentally. Irrevocably. You fucked up so bad your grandchildren weren’t even going to feel it, because they weren’t going to exist, because you’re going to die alone.  </em></p><p>Kenma wasn't surprised that Kuroo found him out, when he dripped anxiety and desperation from his very pores.</p><p>What Kenma didn’t expect was the older man to take one look at him, even before dragging Kenma into a hug. His eyebrows shot up his hairline, and his mouth dropped open.</p><p>"What the <em> fuck </em>happened to you?" he demanded. He didn't give Kenma any time to explain, before he was dragging Kenma into his chest. Kuroo squeezed him tight, and Kenma could almost breathe again. "If this is because of that Bokuto guy, I'll kill him." he said, probably glaring over his head. His chin dug into the crown of Kenma's head, but Kenma didn't care much.</p><p>"Let's just go home," he muttered into Kuroo's chest.</p><p>They commuted back to campus. Kuroo didn't get much of a tour. Certainly nothing like Kenma got his first day.</p><p>Kenma unlocked his door, kicking it open. He was pre-tensed and ready to hear Kuroo's lecture, but the sigh he got was almost worse. Kenma didn't look at him as he took off his jacket and hung it up properly. Like one act of tidiness was going to override the entire room that looked like a whirlwind had tore through it.</p><p>"I am officially concerned," Kuroo announced, hanging his jacket up, too. "Are you sure you don't want to pack a few things and go back to mine? It'd probably be nice to get out for a few days. Get away."</p><p>"I'm sure." He sat pretzeled on his bed and rubbed the tips of his fingers into his eyes. He sighed so heavily he was almost concerned that he dislodged something in his chest.</p><p>Kuroo sat down next to him, with absolutely no care for personal space. He reached over for Kenma's hand, holding it tight. "Something is clearly bothering you."</p><p>"Your observational skills are in peak condition."</p><p>Kuroo thumped him on the side of the head, ignoring Kenma's petulant <em> ow. </em>"We should talk about it. It'll help you, absolutely. It'll also help me understand whose ass I'm going to be kicking before I leave."</p><p>Kenma huffed, leaning his shoulder into Kuroo's. "Don't kick anyone's ass."</p><p>"Why not?" he demanded.</p><p>"Because it's my fault, you would have to kick my ass." His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. Each blink took longer than the last. "And you can't kick my ass, so you'd be embarrassed when you lose.”</p><p>Kuroo hummed, taking his advice. "So wise, young Kenma," he praised, reaching his freehand up to gently tousle his hair. "You should take a nap."</p><p>Kenma shook his head, even as his eyelids began to glue themselves closed from the inside. "Not tired."</p><p>Kuroo scoffed. "Well, <em> I </em>am, so I will be sleeping!" He kicked off his shoes and shifted them so Kenma was tucked safe in his arms. He tucked his chin to be able to see Kenma. "You should too."</p><p>Kenma hummed, but he was already there.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Kenma barely had time to open his eyes before he was assaulted by that smug tone of voice. "That Bokuto of yours is a character."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Kenma asked, voice a little too thick with sleep to be totally deadpan as he pushed himself up on an elbow. He scrubbed his knuckles into his eyes before pawing around the blankets for his phone. He found a few texts from Shouyo. A few notifications from his socials.</p><p>He dropped his phone and looked at Kuroo. He was sitting on the spare bed with his phone in his hand, eyes on Kenma. Like he was waiting for Kenma to catch up on the obscure reference he belted out.</p><p><em> Kenma </em> knew Bokuto had weird leanings sometimes. But <em> Kuroo </em>wasn’t supposed to know that.</p><p>Kenma's brain was just beginning to boot up, Kuroo could go fuck himself and his references.</p><p>He swung his feet over the side of the bed and frowned. The floor in front of him was suspiciously clear. For starters, he could see the floor. "Did you clean?"</p><p>"That would be Bokuto."</p><p>Kenma frowned at him, his nose wrinkling. Kuroo snorted. "He came to see you. He was gonna wait until you woke up, but he got antsy.”</p><p>“He doesn’t like to sit still.”</p><p>Kuroo nodded. “Seemed the type to vibrate. He went through and collected all your laundry like it was his big ticket to paradise. He says he does both your laundry. Don't tell me you're friends with him just to take advantage of him, Kenma." He shook his head slowly, trying to look disappointed, but the effect was ruined when he was three seconds away from cracking.</p><p>Kenma was still trying to wrap his mind around this. “He took my laundry?”</p><p>“I think he was just wanting a reason to leave. Kinda awkward. Two dudes sitting quietly while a third dude sleeps like the dead. I don’t know.” He put up his hands, as if to dispel the topic into the universe. “I. Don’t. Know. He seemed pretty tore up about something, though.”</p><p>Kenma grimaced. He slid to the floor and looked under the bed for his socks. “We had a fight.”</p><p>“You know what, I believe you.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Kenma rolled his eyes and popped back up with his socks and a pair of boots to match. “Are you okay here for a while?” he asked.</p><p>Kuroo lifted his eyebrows. “You’re leaving me in the toxic wasteland?” He didn’t wither a bit under Kenma’s glare. If absence made the heart grow fonder, Kenma was going to make Kuroo move in with him. There was no room for any more gushiness. It was an absolute atrocity they even let it get this far.</p><p>Kuroo shooed him out the door once he had his essentials in his pockets and a coat in his arms.</p><p>“Go get ‘em, tiger.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Cold. It was so fucking cold. His toes were going to fall off, and then his nose. Next time his skin changed color, it’s going to be with his own blood, and he was taking the snow out with him.</p><p>He trudged through the snow — <em> against </em>the snow — as it whipped in his face. God, the things he did for Bokuto.</p><p>Well. Technically this wouldn’t be happening if Kenma hadn’t freaked out and yelled at Bokuto, and then ignored him for a week straight.</p><p>This was Kenma recompense. He recognized it fully.</p><p>When he pulled open the laundromat, it was blessedly barren except for Bokuto. He was sitting low in his seat, with his legs stretched in front of him. He stared so hard at the ceiling Kenma was surprised that it was still intact.</p><p>The washer swished, the lights flickered. Kenma’s laundry basket was sitting at Bokuto’s side. This was their space. Their own pocket universe carved out just for them.</p><p>It was made for them like they were made for each other.</p><p>There was a reason science experiments always tested with variables and had control groups. It’s so shit like this wouldn’t happen. Kenma wasn’t majoring in science, though, so he thought he should get a pass.</p><p>Kenma crossed the room, letting Bokuto notice him in his own time. When he did he jumped so high Kenma really swore he was going to go through the roof.</p><p>He yanked his earbuds out and stared at Kenma, his chest heaving with the scare.</p><p>His skin was so bare, clear of blemishes and uneven tones. There was a flush across his cheekbones that only deepened when Kenma sat in front of him on the floor.</p><p>“Heard Kuroo came to town!” Bokuto blathered, scrabbling for <em> something </em> to distract from this weird tension between them. “Seems like a cool guy. Made me nervous as hell, though. Thought he was gonna <em> eat me.”  </em></p><p>“He has that effect on people.” Kenma shuffled forward, pleased at how Bokuto widened his legs to accommodate him. Kenma’s hands fell to Bokuto’s waist, trying to ground himself as he stood as tall as he could on his knees. “I panicked. I’m sorry. For avoiding you. And telling you I didn’t want to see you. I lied.”</p><p>“You know, you’re a pretty convincing liar,” Bokuto told him. There was a tension around his eyes that Kenma desperately wanted to undo. “You should think about going into acting.”</p><p>Kenma hummed.</p><p>Bokuto’s hands fell to Kenma’s forearms, just holding.</p><p>“I forgive you,” Bokuto noted. “I just, ah… I just still don’t know what happened.”</p><p>Kenma paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I convinced myself that we weren’t going to work out,” he explained, trying to find the words and pluck them from their hiding places. “And when they were, I freaked out.”</p><p>Bokuto frowned. “You said nothing changed. But you knew right? You know?”</p><p>Kenma’s eyes dropped, rolling from Bokuto’s ear, to his shoulder, all the way down to where his hands sat in a helpless little pile in his lap.</p><p>He was watching, so it was no surprise when Bokuto took a gentle hold of his wrist. He pulled Kenma’s hand up, and Kenma’s eyes followed the movement. Bokuto held Kenma’s hand to his cheek, sighing and leaning into the touch when Kenma’s thumb stroked his cheek.</p><p>“I figured it out,” Kenma choked out.</p><p>Bokuto looked down at him, his eyes so warm. “I knew for a while.”</p><p>Kenma blinked at him. “How?” he demanded.</p><p>Bokuto looked at him incredulously. “I play a sport with rowdy people, someone’s gonna get felt up <em> some </em>time!” Bokuto let out an airy laugh, and it was all Kenma could do not to surge up and hug him.</p><p>He did it anyway.</p><p>Without a second of hesitance, Bokuto hugged him back. Kenma heard him suck a breath in through his teeth. “Missed you,” Kenma murmured.</p><p>“I missed you too.” He kissed Kenma’s hair before propping his chin up. “I missed you so much I had to come do your laundry, <em> eugh!” </em>He threw his body against his seat, throwing his head back dramatically.</p><p>Kenma laughed, pulling Bokuto down so he could kiss his big dumb face.</p><p>“So inconsiderate,” Bokuto shook his head, clicking his tongue. “See if I get tethered to <em> you </em> in my next life!”</p><p>On the inside, Kenma died a little bit. He decided that he did, in fact, have strong opinions about what people called the age old matchmaking service, and one of those opinions was that “tethered” was fucking terrible.</p><p>Kenma groaned, but Bokuto kissed him anyway.</p><p>Soon they would have to leave. Kenma’s laundry would be done, and Kuroo was still in Kenma’s dorm room.</p><p>Fuck, they had to have a proper introduction, too.</p><p>Kenma was never going to live this down.</p><p>That was okay, though. Those were things to worry about later.</p><p>For now, Kenma was plenty content to stay here, basking in the sun and in the affection of his… yanno, whatever.</p><p>“What were you doing at my room, anyway?” Kenma asked.</p><p>Bokuto’s cheeks turned so red it matched the deep red Kenma had pressed into his skin. “Well—” He cleared his throat hard. “I came to see if you were ready to talk. And then that Kuroo guy opened the door. He’s like, kind of intense, Kenma, you should have warned me!”</p><p>“He’s not intense to me,” Kenma hummed.</p><p>Bokuto <em> scoffed. </em>“Thought he was gonna throw me under a train!” </p><p>“He’s not that bad.”</p><p>“To <em> you!”  </em></p><p>Kenma looked at his hands. He could only imagine the state of his face. It was probably along the same lines as Bokuto’s. “Just wait until we go back,” he murmured. He used Bokuto’s knees and hefted himself up so he could slide in the chair next to him. “He’s gonna be even worse.”</p><p>Bokuto whined quietly, sinking into his chair and taking Kenma with him. He rubbed up and down Kenma’s arm, thoughtfully quiet. “I guess I’m just going to have to win your best friend over.” That determined edge was creeping back into his voice.</p><p>Kenma smiled to himself. It would be his turn soon. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his first meeting with Akaashi would be like. He could only hope that it would be a touch better than this hodgepodge of a disaster. “Yeah. You guys are similar, I think you’ll be fine.” <em> Oh, and— </em> “He plays volleyball.”</p><p>That childlike excitement and wonder filled Bokuto’s eyes again, and Kenma knew he had him. “Oh, <em> does he?”  </em></p><p>Maybe they’d text Shouyo, too, make it a real occasion.</p><p>Kenma knew that he probably resigned himself to an evening of setting balls and running and way too much sweat, but it would be fine. The payoff was worth the work if it meant Kuroo could make nice with Kenma’s—</p><p>
  <em> Yanno, whatever.  </em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if everyone in my fics is in some kind of weird ambiguous relationship it's bc i'm a gemini. like that's all.<br/>I didn't have a lot of time to digest this story. There was a one sentence prompt that spiraled so quick I could barely catch it. 100% think I'm just trying to parse it out rn, lmao<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/bubblegumboku">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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